To every woman who loves dangerous things
Consider this your warning.
And your welcome.
-Nivansh Raichand
To all the ladies reading this
There are a lot of vulgar things in this world built to bring pleasure.
And I am one of them.
- Nivansh Raichand
Do let me know which dedication you like the most also tell me if you guys are excited for this book or not;)
Whatever I earn from here goes to street animal ...or even in future 30% will be donated
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The room was dim... but the tension burned intensely between them. "Maan... ahh, ruk jaiye naa..." her fingers tangled in his hair as his lips worked against her neck. "Jab tak aap hamari aankhon mein nahi dekhti..." his voice was low, controlled, "tab tak nahi jaane denge." "Jaiye... apni hone wali patni ki aankhon mein dekhiye..." she whispered, breath uneven. A sharp gasp left her lips as he pulled her hair back, forcing her to look at him. This time... she didn't look away. "Hum wahi toh kar rahe hain, jaan..." His gaze dropped to her lips. And then- He leaned in.
“Hold my hand.” It wasn’t a request. Cameras flashed like lightning, voices crashing over each other, my name tangled with his in headlines that had already decided our story. I leaned closer, forcing a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Zyran Wilson didn’t look at me. His jaw was set, expression carved in stone for the world to admire. “Smile,” he murmured, low enough that only I could hear. “You look like you want to run.” “I do want to run.” His fingers tightened around mine. “Too late,” he said. “You started this.” The words hit harder than they should have. Started this. Right. Because one mistake… one stupid moment where I thought he was someone else… and suddenly I was standing here, dressed in a life that wasn’t mine, playing a role I didn’t audition for. “Just remember,” I whispered, tilting my head like I was leaning into him for the cameras, “this is fake.” That’s when he finally looked at me. And for a split second… something cracked. Not anger. Not annoyance. Something darker. Something that didn’t belong in a fake anything. “Is it?” he said quietly.*his eyes bore into mine* My breath hitched. Flash. Flash. Flash. To everyone else, we looked perfect. Untouchable. Meant to be. But his thumb brushed against my wrist—slow, deliberate, like he was memorizing the pulse there. And suddenly… This didn’t feel like a mistake anymore. It felt like the beginning of one. How it is guy's!!? “You’re not just reading this story… you’re shaping it with me. So tell me—what did you love? What didn’t hit? Votes and suggestions are always welcome 🤍”
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